


Shallow

by Taimane



Category: The Greatest Showman (2017)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt Phillip Carlyle, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Phillip Carlyle Needs a Hug, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-08-07
Packaged: 2019-10-28 08:22:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17783927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taimane/pseuds/Taimane
Summary: Phillip Carlyle's plan was to white knuckle his way through life, one hour at a time. Lucky for him that P.T Barnum burst into his life just in time.





	1. Are you happy in this modern world?

The play had been a sell out, the papers raved over the sheer depth of emotion the characters had portrayed, and there had been a standing ovation as the curtains closed on the final scene. Phillip had unsuccessfully tried to make his way out of the opulent theatre unseen, it had in fact taken him over an hour to leave the premises due to his customers both congratulating him on another successful play and demanding part two.  
Phillip finally managed to duck out of the doors, make his way across the courtyard and up the stone steps to the balcony overlooking the theatre.  
Turning his back to it he leaned against the railing, ran a hand through his hair and discarded his top hat. He sighed and took out his flask that he had filled with Whiskey before leaving to watch the first performance of the season. He took a long swig from the flask, and nearly choked as a voice asked “Are you Phillip Carlyle?” Damn, he thought. I’ll never be free of them. 

He turned to look at the person who owned the voice. “Yes, refunds are available at the front box office. And you are?”  
The man in front of him was tall, roguishly handsome with dark features and a kind smile. His eyes were full of glee. He held out a hand to Phillip. “P.T. Barnum, at your service.” Phillip blinked. “Mr Barnum, from the circus?!” P.T laughed in response “So you’ve seen my show?”  
“God no, but I have seen the crowds. People seem a lot happier when they leave, which is more than can be said for my plays.” Barnum grinned, and Phillips breath caught in his throat. “Can I buy you a drink?” 

Before he knew it, Phillip was flirting with Barnum after sharing nearly half a bottle of whiskey with him and found himself dancing on the bar and agreeing to join Barnum’s circus. They left the bar, and the bite of cold air hit him full in the face. Phillip sucked in a breath, blew out his cheeks and sobered up pretty quickly. His eyes widened as his brain caught up and he realised what he had done. “Phillip keep up!” Barnum turned to face Phillip as he slowed down and pulled his arm away.  
“Look, I don’t think this is such a good idea. I have an inheritance, fortune, a comfortable life. I’d be throwing all of that away. If anyone saw me with you, I’d be completely ruined-”  
“Phillip, calm down. Just come and check it out. See what you think. I know we shook on it but you can always pull out if you don’t like what you see. But I can guarantee that wont happen.”  
Phillip stood completely still, torn between two lives. He was well aware that what he did next would change the course of his life forever. Behind him was a black hole of having everything but at the same time having nothing at all, nothing and no one he cares about. In front of him were what Phillip assumed would be the blinding lights, colours, and sounds of the circus and an uncertain future. 

If Phillip was completely honest with himself, he had planned for this night to be his last. He had a letter in his breast pocket explaining why he would do what he was planning, and apologising to his family at the same time. He meant what he said at the bar; the people he was associated with were completely suffocating, and his father was abusive. He was dreading going home, especially drunk and smelling of booze. Barnum sensed his hesitance. “It’ll be fine,” he said kindly. His tone had changed and his eyes had softened, as if he was talking to a small child. “I meant what I said. You’re not committing to anything.”  
Phillip released the breath he didn’t realise he’d been holding, the envelope in his pocket burning a hole against his chest. He looked up at Barnum. “Okay,” he said “if this goes up in smoke though it’s completely on you.” Barnum laughed, delighted. “Sure thing. Follow me!”


	2. Or do you need more?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phillip struggles with what he needs to do and what society expects of him, and feels hopeless.

The lights of the circus were truly blinding for Phillip. He completely forgot about everything, and for a split second his mind went completely blank. Even though he was intoxicated, he thought that perhaps this was what happiness was supposed to feel like. Stumbling and suddenly struggling to keep up with Barnum, he bumped into and almost knocked over the tallest man he had ever seen. He spun around to see the shortest man he had ever seen, and the costumes were completely dazzling. His knees hit a bench and he pitched forward, catching himself just in time and rolling off it. The hand on his shoulder reassured him, and he looked up to see Barnum grinning wildly at him. 

They ran upstairs, past a very large bearded lady whom they both tipped their hats too, and she laughed hysterically at their antics. Phillip pivoted and followed Barnum up the last of the steps and Barnum shoved him through the curtain. And for the second time in as many minutes, his whole world screeched to a halt. Taking off his hat, he asked breathlessly, “who was that…?”  
Phillip clomped rather sloppily back down the stairs, his legs and arms suddenly forgetting how to co-ordinate themselves. He could hardly string two thoughts together, and all he could think about where those eyes. Distantly, he heard Barnum shout to someone.  
“W.D, Anne! I’d like you to meet my newest hire, Mr Carlyle.” Barnum once again shoved Phillip forward and he shook W.D’s hand. “Nice to meet you,” said W.D politely. “Likewise,” Phillip returned. Barnum coughed, “And this is Anne Wheeler. Our trapeze artist.” Phillip clumsily shook her hand. “And what is your act Mr Carlyle?” she asked. Philip looked into her eyes and once more had the breath knocked out of him. “I- I don’t have- an…act.” he muttered. Anne smirked and walked passed him. “Everyone’s got an act.” 

Phillip was truly mesmerised. He turned to watch her leave, her purple scarf billowing behind her. He knew there and then that he was completely and hopelessly in love. That thought was interrupted as a man called O’Mally requested Barnum’s attention at the front doors.  
Phillip turned around and bumped into W.D as Barnum called for him to follow. W.D gave him a threatening, defiant look. Schooling his expression into something more appropriate he held up his hands in surrender and ran after Barnum to see what demanded the ringmasters attention.  
Reality hit Phillip in the face with a sickening crunch as he wearily looked at the crowds gathered outside. This was not his world, he thought. No matter how badly he wanted it, he would not be able to make this work. It was too much, and he would almost certainly be disowned. If this is how the lower class where reacting to the prospect of celebrating each others differences, then his parents would most definitely not allow it. He just didn’t know how he could tell Barnum that.  
As if in reminder, a corner of the envelope tucked into his breast pocket poked his chest. He smoothed his jacket and followed Barnum back inside, more Whiskey was definitely needed. 

———  
The shame of stumbling back to his parents house inebriated was something that he never thought he would have to endure again. The fact that he had planned to end his own life after curtain call and had not yet gone through with it left Phillip with an ache in his head and a void in his heart that no amount of alcohol and sell out plays would ever fill. Every minute of his life from now on was a minute that he had not planned for. His parents house loomed into view, like an angry monster waiting to engulf him completely. He felt completely and utterly suffocated, and his mind felt like it was slowly, painfully, imploding in on itself. Ascending the grand marble staircase to the front door, he stepped into his own, private slice of hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking with this if you have read this far. I do have ideas, and I'm sorry if the writing is a little stilted in places. Hopefully it will get better as the story goes along. Also I apologise for the short chapters, again something that I hope improves over time.


	3. Is there somethin' else you're searchin for?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phillip continues to struggle with what lies ahead, and seeks advice from old friends.

Phillip breathed in deeply, for as long as he could before his body started to scream in protest. He let go of the breath he had been holding slowly, before repeating. Breath in through the nose, hold, let go through the mouth slowly, repeat. He did this until he felt his heart rate sow down, the crunching in his chest became less painful, and his hands slowly unclenched. The voices in his head where still screaming, taunting him, so he carried on until they quietened down too. They never fully went away, but sometimes he could smother them enough that he could function. Well… function was a strong word. Give off the impression that he was present in the moment, would be more accurate.  
  
His ribcage still screamed in agony as his sat at his writing desk, which was tucked away in the corner of his childhood bedroom. The bedroom was grand, and opulence seeped out of every corner. The wood was embossed with floral decor and lined with gold filigree, and deep blue curtains hung from expensive oak beams. A four poster bed stood proudly against the wall, and a chandelier that looked liked it belonged in a ball room rather than a bedroom hung from the ceiling. But for all its grandeur, the rooms occupant had never liked it, or spent one happy moment there. The adage that money couldn’t buy you happiness was true, and Phillip was the living embodiment of it.  
  
Phillip opened his eyes slowly, and squinted at the grains of wood that swirled freely on his desk. He ran his fingernails through the grooves, a habit that he had picked up during a lonely childhood. His mouth was set in a grim downward turn, his eyes were dulled with pain and misery, and one arm was curled around his sore ribs. His father hadn’t taken too kindly to him turning up drunk out of his mind last night, and had beaten him with his belt in the drawing room, ignoring his son’s cries. It was not lost on Phillip that his father had made sure that he hadn’t scarred any skin that was visible outside of his clothes.  
Phillip knew his father had done this so that he could prolong his sons misery, and to prevent the scandal that would befall the family if anyone found out. The servants had been threatened by his father that if anyone dared mention Mr Carlyle’s preference for corporal punishment, their life would not be worth living. It wasn’t just Phillip who was scared of his father, almost everyone in the house was. The servants didn’t dare look him in the eye, and Phillip hated the looks of sympathy they flashed his way when his father wasn’t looking. He knew that they knew all too well what was going on, but where powerless to stop it. One of the maids, Martha, who had served the family since she was a child, had taken too looking after him after his father had punished him. She brought him a hot broth, and a mug of hot chocolate, along with warm water and cloth to wrap his wounds in. Today was no different, and the lines in his face eased slightly as he heard a soft knock on the door.  
  
“Come in,” he replied. Sure enough, Martha poked her head around the door. “Are you alright Master Phillip?” she asked quietly as she shimmied her way in to his bedroom. Phillip smiled sadly as he recognised the tray and its contents. ' _Like clockwork_ ,’ he thought.  
Martha let the door close with a soft click and made her way over to where Phillip was sat hunched over. With a well trained eye she noticed the way he looked at her warily, and approached him as if she would a child, or wounded animal. “I’ve brought you some soup, and hot chocolate. To warm you up,” she said unnecessarily. “May I take a look?”  
Martha waited for Phillip to weigh up his options in his mind, and smiled kindly at him when he gave her a small nod. She waited for him to roll his shirt up over his shoulders, and she sucked in a sympathetic breath at the sight. Huge, angry welts lined his ribcage and back, some of them still oozing puss and blood. Others had already started scabbing over, and she knew they would hurt the most to clean. She set her tray on his writing desk, before taking the bowl of warm salt water and placing it on the floor. She dabbed a cloth in it, letting it soak slightly. “This will hurt a bit,” she warned, “but it won’t last long. You’ll feel better once they’re wrapped. Then you should try and sleep a bit, if you can. If it’s not too bold sir, may I ask what it was about this time?” Martha knelt on the floor and wrung the sopping cloth out, before placing it gently on Phillip’s wounds. She tried not to let him flinch away from the contact, knowing that it wouldn’t help him in the long run. Phillip sighed and looked down at Martha. She became worried by the dead expression in his gaze.  
  
“Father doesn’t care much for my drinking, nor whom I chose to socialise with,” he stuttered as Martha dabbed more salt water onto one of the angrier looking welts. “And who would that be?” she asked, trying to take his mind off the pain. Phillips ducked his head, tucking his chin to his chest, a habit that he had ever since Martha had known him. “You don’t have to tell me if you would rather not, but you know I won’t judge you,” Martha reassured. “There’s no pressure.” She started cleaning another, smaller welt, as to give him chance to catch his breath.  
  
Phillip breathed out deeply, his nostrils flaring. “P.T. Barnum.”  
“From the Circus?” Asked Martha, and Phillip nodded as he choked out a laugh, not missing the irony. He had asked P.T. that same question only last night.  
“The very same, he had a business proposition for me to consider.” Phillip wiped an itch away from his cheek using his shoulder and sniffed unhappily. “But I don’t think I’ll be seeing much more of Mr. Barnum.”  
  
Martha paused in her ministrations and looked at the young man whom she had always considered to be her charge. “I think what you need to ask yourself, is do you want to see him again?” Phillip looked at her, shocked. Before he could begin to deny anything, she clarified. “No, you misunderstand me. Phillip, it’s perfectly okay, normal- even, for a young man to have a friend. No one will read anything into it. What is not normal, is this,” she gestured at the room around her.  
“This isolation. It’s enough to drive anyone into madness, how you have kept your sanity all these years under your fathers rule and not become like him is beyond me. Phillip, you are a remarkable young, gifted man. And you are utterly wasted here. And I truly believe that you can do whatever you set your mind to, and make a success out of it. Without your Father’s input. You need to look deep inside yourself, and for once in your life, do something that you need to do. I have every faith in you, you just need to have some in yourself. There we go, all done.” Martha finished wrapping the last bandage and tied it firmly. “Now eat your soup and drink your cocoa before it goes cold.” Martha laughed at Phillips open mouthed expression. She placed a hand under his chin and gently closed his mouth, before patting his cheek lightly. “Your Father has no idea how lucky he is to have you as a son. I hope you know that you can come to anyone of us for help if you need it. Your father may only care about the publics perception of the Carlyle name, but we care about you.” Martha gathered her things before making her way to the door. She turned as Phillip called her back.  
“Martha…. Thank you.” He said softly. “For everything.”  
  
Martha smiled and her eyes softened in response. “You’re welcome, Master Phillip,” she said before disappearing behind the door and back out into the hall.  
Phillip tenderly poked his wrapped wounds, noting that they did indeed feel better, and he felt fresher and more awake. He wouldn’t say happy as such…. but more grounded since he had been before Martha had visited. He loved Martha, the servant had been more of a mother and father to him than his own put together. Whilst his mother had never laid a hand on him like his father had, she had been distant, and the servants had mostly brought him up. Phillip turned and picked up the spoon, sighing in content as he swallowed the warm broth. After he finished the soup, he cradled the mug of warm Cocoa in his hands, relishing in its warmth. He eyed is parchment and quill on the desk, before deciding that he had a correspondence to make. After taking a slurp of the drink, he placed the mug down carefully before dipping his quill into the pot of ink and began to write.  
  
_  
My dearest Victoria,_

__

__

_How are you? I hope your days in the courts of England are not as boring as mine are here across the water. I find myself missing your company more and more each passing day, and lately I find myself craving your guidance, now more than ever._

__

_For I have met a man, his name is P.T. Barnum, and he owns a circus. He has proposed to enter into a business relationship with me and I simply cannot decide on the right course of action. If I partake in this venture, and it fails, I will loose everything. My name, my family, and my right to my inheritance. But if I go into business with Mr Barnum, and it is a success, I will loose my name, my family, and my inheritance, but gain so much more. I believe I find myself at an impasse, and I have no idea what to do for the best. Martha believes I need to ‘look inside myself,’ and do what I 'need' to do, however I find myself as perplexed as ever. I do know one thing, that if I choose to go forth on this venture with Mr. Barnum, my life will be forever split as ‘before’ and ‘after’ I joined the Circus. My dearest Victoria, this could really be something spectacular. I just do not know if I am brave enough to take the plunge._

__

_I hope that you are well, and thank you for indulging me in my melancholy._

__

_I simply must make time to visit you in England soon, I feel that it has been too long since I have been in your presence._

__

_Warmest regards,_

__

__

_Your Phillip_  
  
Phillip read and re-read the letter, double checking that it didn’t sound too depressing, and simply that he was unsure of which path to go down. Which was partly true.  
He knew Victoria would see right through it though, as she always could do when they were children. He folded the letter neatly, slotted it in an envelope, and sealed it with a wax stamp that had the family crest engraved on it. He addressed it to Buckingham Palace, England, finished the dregs off his Cocoa and stretched, cracking his shoulders. It was still early, he thought as he glanced out of the window. The sun was only just starting to rise, basking the valley in an unearthly glow. He reasoned that had time to catch a few hours of sleep, and would think on it again tomorrow with a clear head, and hopefully, a less heavy heart.


	4. I'm falling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phillip's Fathers fury reaches its peak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I truly apologise for the late update. This chapters been surprisingly difficult to write, and I'm not sure if i've got the dates right for the civil war in comparison to when the movie was set but in my story it'll do. I've been in a bad place and not had a lot of energy to write. Thanks for everyone who has kept up with this story, all of my fics will be finished eventually, I can promise that at least! Also got some ideas for more Baywatch ;)
> 
> Also, gets a wee bit darker here folks!

Phillip had never considered himself to be a particularly violent man, however at this moment in time it was taking every ounce of willpower that he possessed to stop himself from lashing out at the man in front of him.  
“Phillip Carlyle! If you walk out of that door don’t bother coming back! You ignorant, bastard disgrace! How dare you besmirch our family name!! Parading around with the help as bold as brass! The shame!”

Phillip had never been so angry. After receiving a response from Victoria, who gave Phillip her blessing, Phillip had decided to jump into circus life head first. The last few weeks had been the best of his life, and knowing that his closest friend approved of his decision had been a weight lifted from his shoulders. Phillip supposed that his mistake had been that he had gotten too comfortable, and let his guard down at a crucial moment. How he wished things had gone differently. 

With the help of Phineas and Lettie, He had, for some reason unknown to himself, tried to take Anne to the theatre. On an honest to goodness date- What the hell had he been thinking? Phillip had acquired two tickets to a performance of Romeo and Juliet. The seats were in the top box, and it would have been a perfect evening for Anne and he, were it not for his parents sudden and unexpected appearance. He fought the sob that was clawing its way up his throat, ignoring his shaking hands as he threw what little belongings he had into a worn leather bag. He ignored his father, who was stood at the entrance to his room. 

“Don’t you dare, Phillip!” 

Phillip paused mid throw, a shirt still dangling from his fingers as he turned red faced to face his father, the man who had tormented him his entire life. 

“How dare you speak to her in that way, about her in that way! She is one of the most beautiful, talented, kind people I have ever met! She doesn’t deserve to be spoken and talked about the way she is- because of the colour of her skin! Because of the colour of her skin I am not allowed to court her?! It doesn’t matter a damn about what we want?!” Phillip was so angry, that he didn’t realise his father had crossed the threshold into his room until it was too late. “You insolent child! I will not allow you to be seen with that… that…”  
“Woman?” Phillip finished.  
“Slave,” his father wrongfully amended.  
Phillip flinched back as if he had been slapped. “You’re living in the past Father. Slavery was abolished. It should never have been, we never should have had to fight a war in the first place! And you know what, I would have been fighting for them Father, if I were old enough to go. I would have gone gladly and fought for their freedom-” Phillips passionate speech was cut short when his Father back handed him so hard he fell onto the bed, causing the leather overnight bag to fall to the floor, its contents scattering across the room. 

“You dare!” 

Phillip looked up cautiously, one hand covering half of his face in weariness. His blue eyes blazed in anger. “Oh I dare,” he said, making to get up. “I will never agree with your ways! I never have! I only ever agreed with you because I was scared of you, as a child I was scared but now I am a man and I am not scared, and I haven’t been for a while.” He stood nose to nose with the older Carlyle, and stared him down. What he didn’t expect was for the elder man to start laughing. “Oh, you will be scared of me boy. Of that you can count on.” Mr Carlyle raised his cane, and brought it down on his son so hard that blood from his face splattered on the floor. He stared at the quivering form of his son in distain, loathing seeping out of every pore. How could he have produced such a disappointing offspring? He voiced as much. 

Phillip heaved himself up off the floor. “I find myself wondering how I could have such a disappointing Father,” Phillip retorted bravely. His bravery was met with more pain as his Father brought the cane down on him again. 

“You will learn,” he said coldly. “We have a lot of time, now.” 

Phillip frowned. “What do you mean?” 

His Father laughed and strode towards the door, placing a hand on the door knob before turning back to his only son. 

“I’m locking this door. And you will not be let out until you swear to me that you will go no where near that freak show again. And don’t think you can fool me, I will have people following you, and they will report back to me. So until you can behave, you’re staying here. And Martha will not be available to help you this time.” With that, his Father shut the door, the click of the lock echoing with a horrifying finality. 

“No! You can’t do that you bastard! _No_!” Phillip screamed, kicked, and scratched at the door until his fingers bled. “Let me out!” he wailed. 

Phillip didn’t know how long it had been, but by the time dusk had fallen, his voice was raw and scratchy from screaming for help. He lay crumpled on the floor watching the light from the hallway flicker and change as servants and, quite possibly, his mother and father walked passed his room. All of whom steadfastly ignoring the young man suffering within its walls. 

————-

The mud on the ground had started to freeze over, signalling the beginning of winter. The woman pulled her shawl around her shoulders, and clutched the child’s hand tighter. “Momma, where are we going?” The young girl asked in between breaths as she dashed through the side streets with her mother.  
“Somewhere safe Eliza,” the woman replied. “Now be quiet. We can’t get caught.” 

——-

Raucous laughter filtered through the Circus ring. Charles was in the middle of the chaos, stood drunkenly on a box and doing a decidedly spot on impression of his boss. Much to the amusement of the troupe, and the man himself.  
“Oi! I do not swing my hips like that!” Barnum retorted, unable to stop the slight blush rising up his neck.  
“Yeah you do! And you turn like this,” Charles demonstrated, flipping his head back and waving his hands flamboyantly, angling his hips a little more. Barnum simply rolled his eyes and shook his head. “You are incorrigible. Why did I hire you?”  
“For my upstanding personality,” quipped Charles over the hoots and laughter.  
“That’s not even the worst thing,” he continued. “I’m vertically challenged right? So I spend most of the show trying my hardest not to look at our wonderful ringmasters dick. Which, by the way, I am eye level with. Have you guys tried to sing along to the opening number, whilst keeping a straight face and simultaneously ignoring your boss waggling his crotch-”  
  
Anne and Lettie shrieked in laughter, Anne hiding her burning face in Lettie’s shoulder and clutching her shaking glass in the other hand.  
Barnum downed the last of the Whiskey from his tumbler and set it aside. “Right!” He said, clapping his hands together. “Now that my ego has been well and truly crushed for the evening, I think I’m going to turn in for the night. Don’t get too smashed everyone, enjoy the rest of the-”  
“Er, Boss? Did you hire anyone new without telling us?” Charles interjected with a frown.  
“No? Why’d you ask?” Barnum replied whilst shrugging on his coat.  
Charles pointed behind him. “Who are they then?”  
Barnum swung around and stepped back in confusion. He looked quizzically at the rugged appearance of the woman and young child, debating on how best to tackle the situation, before deciding just to act like he always did.  
“Hey, welcome to my Circus. P.T. Barnum, at your service.” He spread his arms wide and flashed the newcomers his signature Barnum grin. After giving them a flamboyant bow, he glanced at the woman’s face. She was clearly stressed, and his welcome obviously hadn’t eased the tension that was seeping out of every pore, bone and muscle. The young child was actually a young adult girl, and she clung to the woman’s arm in a vice like grip. “To whom do I owe the pleasure?” 

The woman stepped forward, and the girl tugged desperately on her arm. “Mama!”  
The woman turned to the child, cupping her face in her hands. “It’s okay child. We need to help Master Phillip.”  
Barnum was startled. “Excuse me,” he blurted. “But did you say Phillip? As In Phillip Carlyle?”  
“Forgive the lateness and the intrusion sir. My name is Martha, and this is my daughter, Eliza. We were employed by the Carlyle’s.” The young girl, Eliza, moved closer to her mother. She stared up at Barnum with wide, frightened eyes.  
  
“You’re safe here,” he reassured. “But I gather Phillip isn’t safe, wherever he is?”  
By now the rest of the troupe had gathered behind Barnum, and worry for their friend had hastily sobered them up.  
Martha shook her head. “I fear for him, his father… has always been a… _difficult_ man,” she stressed the word difficult, and scrunched up her face as if it had left a bad taste in her mouth. “But this… we have never seen him like this before. All the servants are afraid of what might happen next. You need to help him.” She pleaded.  
“What’s happened to Phillip?” Anne asked, her voice taught.  
  
“Phillips father has him locked away in his bedroom. He won’t let him leave. I think he’s been beaten too. This has been going on for a long time. But there’s something different, I really don’t think Mr Carlyle will let Phillip leave.” She broke off with a sob and brought a hand to her mouth."You're Anne?" Martha asked suddenly, and Eliza looked up at that. Anne nodded and folded her arms across her chest. "Yes," she said defensively. "I am." Martha smiled, despite the situation. "It is nice to finally meet you, but I wish the circumstances where different." Anne looked surprised. "Phillip talks about me?" she asked in shock. Martha nodded. "Oh yes, all the time." Anne blushed.  
  
“Barnum,” Lettie said, her voice low and dangerous. “Lets go, we’ll break down the door if we have too.”  
“There will be no need for that,” said Martha. “I love Phillip like my own. God knows his own parents don’t. Do you think I would leave without these?” she held up a spare set of keys. “The cook will be waiting for you. Go round the back and through the scullery.”  
“What about you?” Barnum asked, catching the keys as Martha threw them over to him. “You’re more than welcome here.”  
Martha gave him a tight smile. “Thank you. But we need to leave. Mr Carlyle is a storm that cannot be weathered. We have family in Connecticut. We will stay there, away, but close enough to be near Phillip should he need us. But I know he won’t.” she nodded kindly at Barnum and the Troupe. “Well do you need any help reaching Connecticut?”  
  
Martha shook her head. “No,” she replied. “But Thank you. We need to be moving. Thank you for helping the young Master.”  
Barnum took the hand that Martha held out and kissed it. “Ms Martha, it is I who should be thanking you. And Phillip is family, he always has a place with us. My wife Charity will also be able to help him recover,” he added, sensing that she somehow needed to hear it.  
“That is a comfort. Please pass my love on to Phillip when he is well enough. Good bye Mr. Barnum.”  
“Phineas, please.” He said. “Safe travels.”  
Martha took one last look at the wayward group, and realised that Phillip had most definitely found a home here. _It was just like Phillip_ , she thought fondly, _to find the most ragtag group of people and fit right in_.


	5. Longing for change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Phillips Father is just evil... and the Barnum rallies the troupe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise profoundly for the delay in posting this chapter. I went on holiday and I've also had a bad time with my depression and creativity. Due to those two major players in my life I can't be sure when I'll update, but would like to thank those of you for sticking with this story. I'm sorry I couldn't give you more than this chapter, but it was a pain in the ass to write. I didn't know if this was a bit too over the top... it probably is but I don't care. Hopefully you guys won't have to wait as long for the next update. Love you all <3

P.T sat in his office chair, twisting the key to Phillips cage in his hands. The energy coming off the key was transient, fleeting. Mocking him. He held Phillips freedom in the palm of his hand, yet it felt a million miles away. He slammed the key down on the desk, whilst rubbing his throbbing forehead with his other hand.

“What do we do boss?” P.T had gathered the men off the circus troupe in his office, to do what he didn’t know. For the first time in his life he was stumped, and he was ashamed. This was his family, and he had no idea how to help them. He could barely look at the men who were putting their faith in him, but he forced his eyes up to meet W.D’s own concerned gaze.

“I have to be honest with you all before we proceed. I have no idea how this is going to go. I don’t know what we will find when we get there, if anyone will be able to let us in through the scullery, and with what resistance we will be met with. Mr Carlyle could have a gun for all we know, he could have men hired outside Phillips room. Any number of variables are going through my head right now and to be honest I have no idea what to do.” P.T breathed deeply through his nose and shut his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“So you’re giving up?” Anne asked from the doorway, her voice an octave higher with worry for her friend/boyfriend. Lettie and the other girls filed in to the now over crowded office.

“Sorry for intruding. But we want to help,” said Deng, crossing her arms over her chest defiantly. Fedor smirked at the girls, his eyes kind. “They may be girls Barnum, but don’t underestimate these firecrackers.” “Here here!” Agreed the Lord of Leeds, and Charles nodded approvingly.

“So what do you propose? We just burst in through the door, get Phillip, never mind the consequences?” P.T asked, leaning back in his chair. “Since when did you care about consequences Barnum?” Lettie asked, her voice fierce.

“Since this is Phillip. And I’ve put him through enough already, I don’t want to make his life worse than it already is.”

Lettie frowned. “How could it be worse?”

P.T sighed. “You don’t know Phillips father... The man is.... deplorable. How Phillip grew into the kind, caring and accepting young man that his is today having grown up under that monsters ruling is anyone’s guess.”

“He’s that bad?” Asked Anne, and P.T looked at her, his eyes crinkling in sympathy. “Oh yes. Unfortunately it is well known that Phillips father was the reason for his drinking habits. It remains to be quite the scandal. It’s why I approached Phillip and encouraged him to join the Circus payroll. I wanted to get him away from all that. Live a little. However I fear I’ve just enraged his father and put Phillip directly into harms way rather than removing him from it.” P.T blinked away the tears threatening to fall, his eyes burning.

“I see it in your eyes....” P.T mumbled, picking the key back up and bringing the key up to his line of vision. “You believe that lie, that you need to hide your face. Afraid to step outside. So you lock the door, but don’t you stay that way-”

“No more living in those shadows,” Anne joined in, moving towards her boss and placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. “You and me we know how that goes,” Charles, Fedor, and The Lord of Leeds harmonised. “‘Cause once you see it, oh” “You’ll never, never be the same.” Lettie joined in on the high notes, and as the momentum of their singing picked up, P.T heaved himself out of the chair, the key digging into his palm, egging him on as he shrugged his coat back on, grabbing his Fathers old hat and his cane.

The latter of which he knew would come in very handy. His Fathers hat was almost falling apart, and he could have taken his brand new, very expensive top hat. Right now though he needed the comfort that the hat provided, but more than anything he needed to channel his Fathers grit, determination, and ruthlessness.

* * *

 

Phillip brought his knees up to his chest and hugged them, shivering in the cold. He curled up as tight as possible against the harshness off the brick wall, needing any comfort. His Father had made good on the promise he had made to Phillip little over a week ago, and Phillip was now well and truly afraid of the man. Two days into his captivity in his old childhood bedroom, three men had stormed into the room, and forcibly removed him. They had gripped his arms so tight that they were still bruised, and dragged him through the hall and down the stairs.

He fought the whole way, which was useless and only caused him further pain. But he knew where he was going, and he wouldn’t go without a fight. He kicked, spat, and screamed bloody murder. All the while, his father looked on from his study, legs crossed and leaning against his cane. He looked bored at the proceedings.

The thugs who had hold of Phillip brought him to a halt in front of his Father. Phillip looked him dead in the eye. “You can’t do this.” Phillip surprised himself at the steadiness of his own voice, even though inside he was petrified. His Father raised one eyebrow towards his receding hairline. “On the contrary, I think you’ll find I can.” He suddenly straightened up and towered over Phillip, who made to back away but was stopped by the thugs holding him upright.

He tried to twist out of their grip, snarling in fury. “Let. Me. GO!” Suddenly he felt something cold and unforgiving grip his chin, starling him enough to go slack for a second. It was his Fathers cane, he realised as his head was wrenched forward. He felt something crack. “You are going to the cellar. You will stay there for as long as it is necessary. You need to understand something son. As long as you live in this house, my word is law. And I forbid you to spend a second longer in the company of those...freaks. I’m doing this for your own good-”

Phillip laughed, a hysterical edge to his voice now. “You’ll keep me here, against my will, so I won’t embarrass you!?” Phillip was incredulous.

His Father snorted derisively. “To keep you from embarrassing yourself. You’ve already lost too much-”

“I never had anything to begin with!” Screamed Phillip, spit flying into his Fathers face. “I was going to die!”

This caught Phillips Father by surprise, and Phillip took some grim pleasure in seeing the shock register in those cold, rigid features. Even if it were only for a second. “What do you mean?” Phillips Father asked as Phillip took a step forward, now nose to nose with his tormentor. He felt the thugs fingers digging into his biceps, but he pushed on. He knew if he didn’t get it out now then he didn’t think he would ever be able too. He had nothing to loose.

“The opening night of my last play,” Phillip snarled, his tone low and dangerous. “What about it?” Mr Carlyle asked.  

“After the curtain call I was going to...going to....” Phillip sucked in a deep breath, and it twinged in his chest. He gulped and forced the words out. He felt like he was having an out of body experience. His brain felt like it was going to implode under the stress. “I was going to kill myself!” It came out as an animalistic howl. Raw and honest. And so incredibly painful. He didn’t know what to expect from his Father, but laughter wasn’t it. Phillip felt as if he had been slapped in the face with that awful cane. He may as well have been. It would’ve hurt less, he thought.

His chest constricted in agony, pain lancing through his bones and muscles as he waited for his Father; who was now bent over double clutching his sides, to finish laughing. After what felt like an eternity his Father finally coughed, straightened up and placed both hands on the top of his cane, much in the same way that he had seen P.T do multiple times.

The similarities made his stomach churn before he berated himself. P.T would never use the gesture threateningly. Not towards his friends and family anyway, and he was pretty sure he had never even raised his voice towards Helen and Caroline, let alone his cane. Charity would have buried him under the Circus ring if he had, of that he could be absolutely sure. He was brought back to the present with a jolt as his Father rammed the cane down on his foot. He yelped in shock. “You think this is funny?” Phillip gasped, wiggling his throbbing toes.

“What I find funny is the notion that you would have the back bone to actually go through with anything. You would fantasise about it perhaps, you always did have your head in the clouds. When it comes to reality though you are so far removed from it that I doubt you would even know how to follow through with something like that. But you will have no doubt that this is reality. You will stay in that cellar until you come to your senses and promise me that you won’t ever have anything to do with the Barnum’s again.”

“That’ll never happen.” There was a pause, and both men glared at each other, hatred making the air around them thick. “Then so be it.” His Father nodded at the men still gripping his arms, and they started dragging him further down the hall. “By the end of the week you’ll wish you had killed yourself!” He shouted after his son, before strolling back into his study and shutting the door with a soft click.

Phillip screamed and screamed, yelling for his mother, P.T, Charity, Martha. Hell, anyone who could put a stop to this madness. He went limp somewhere between the dining room and the kitchen, and he stopped screaming after his voice gave out.

He was also aware he was frightening the kitchen staff, all of whom he considered family and he was already mortified that they were witnesses to his humiliation. He passed Martha, and all the fight left him as he saw himself reflected back in Eliza’s terrified, wide eyed stare.

The men his Father had hired continued dragging him through the kitchen and down another flight of stares, and a fresh bout of fear crashed over him as they descended the dark stairs to the cellar. The Carlyle's were a rich and wealthy family, and highly prominent in New York. Their house came with all the colonial bells and whistles, reflecting the families wealth. Unfortunately for Phillip, the cells where the old slaves were kept where still intact.

The men unlocked the bars to one of the back cells and threw him inside. Phillip coughed as he hit the ground, grazing the side of his face on the concrete floor.

“Please don’t leave me here,” he tried one last time, staring up forlornly at his jailers.

The men just laughed and locked the iron bars shut. “You’ll have plenty of time to think about your life choices now pretty boy.” They jangled the keys mockingly at Phillip through the bars. “Have fun!”

Phillip listened to the men whooping and laughing as they ascended the stairs. They sounded as if they had just left a drinking establishment, he thought miserably. What he wouldn’t give for a bottle of Whiskey right now. He thought back to the night that he first met Phineas Taylor Barnum, and for the first time a wave of hatred towards his friend and business partner coursed through him. _Damn you P.T_ , he thought, tears finally spilling from his eyes. _If it weren’t for you I wouldn’t be in this mess right now_.

Phillip didn't know how long he had been in the cellar, his thoughts drifting between questioning his choice to join the circus to envisioning downing bottle after bottle of premium Whiskey. The mustiness of the Cellar was starting to sit on his chest, and he brought up a hand to his mouth as he coughed weakly. 

Phillip was brought back to the present as he heard a smattering of noise and hushing from the kitchen upstairs. He hugged himself harder and shuffled closer to the bars, keeping his back pressed against the wall. He curled his fingers around the bar and pressed his face to the gap, trying to judge what level of danger he should anticipate. His breath came in short sharp gasps as the noise grew louder. Phillip launched himself to the back of his cell as the cellar door flew open with a bang and a barrage off noise hit him. He covered his eyes as the light streaming in blinded him.

“ _Phillip_!?”

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all, this isn't my first fan fiction but I haven't written anything for a very long time. I don't have a beta so I'm really sorry if there are any grammar/spelling errors, I've tried to catch them all but a few have probably slipped through the net! I absolutely love The Greatest Showman, I've watched it over and over, I do have an outline for where this is going and some ideas for more stories. As usual, any feedback is appreciated. If you have read this, thanks for your time!  
> (Title and chapter titles inspired by the song Shallow (Lady Gaga and Bradley Cooper- A Star is Born.)


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